


These Ties

by allofuswithwings



Series: How Well I Hide [2]
Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Cheating, Denial of Feelings, Introspection, M/M, POV First Person, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: Tom has to deal with the fallout of that fateful night he spent with Chris.
Relationships: Tom Kirk/Chris Wolstenholme
Series: How Well I Hide [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102226
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal/Dreamwidth. Originally published between August 2009 and May 2010.
> 
> The title is taken from lyrics from _Final Conversation_ by The Butterfly Effect.

It was quiet.  
  
It was quiet but I wasn’t still.  
  
My body trembled, muscles protesting from the exertion I’d forced upon them. My skin was still feverishly hot and slick with sweat, gathering down the middle of my chest and the back of my legs.  
  
My belly pressed against his, our heated skin joined by the sticky residue, released only moments ago as he’d cried out for me. My heart drummed in my ears and my chest, blood still rushing in my veins from him.  
  
The only sound was heavy, gasping breaths, from my own lungs and from his. I exhaled hotly onto his face, our noses almost touching, gazes fixed. I stared into his eyes; the soft brown and blown pupils swallowing me up and constricting my chest.  
  
But it was me who moved first, feeling the panic rising up in my throat, and I shifted the weight into my knees to pull out of him. The sensation made me gasp, and I heard Chris try to bite back a moan.  
  
I crawled awkwardly off him, arms refusing to take my full weight, and my joints ached from the tension I’d been keeping in my body. I saw him reach for the tissue box and had to look away, unable to cope with the image of my come now escaping from where I’d buried it inside him.  
  
It wasn’t meant to be like that. It wasn’t meant to happen.  
  
I was shaking like a leaf, head full of static except for one phrase repeated over and over and over.  
  
_Ididntmeanit_. _Ididntmeanit_. _Ididntmeanit_. _Ididntmeanit_.  
  
I turned, sliding off the bed onto unsteady feet, numb with shock and fear and fulfilment. Chris said something, his voice quiet, but I didn’t hear it. I staggered to the ensuite, fleeing like a coward.  
  
I shut the door behind me and turned the shower on, stepping in to let the hot water wash over my already heated skin. Knees buckling, I leant against the side, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Shutting my eyes, I let my head swim, too exhausted to process all the worries and questions straight away.  
  
I lifted my hands up to splay them on the glass either side of my head, taking a deep breath and letting out a whimpered curse on the exhalation. The water beat steadily on the back of my neck and the top of my spine, rushing over to spill down my entire body. It washed away the gathered sweat at my groin and legs, and I dropped my hands to run them wearily over my skin in aid.  
  
I looked down to see the remainder of Chris’s release clinging to my belly, and I swallowed. I smeared a hand over it, wiping it away and letting the water take its place to bead on my wiry hair.  
  
A heavy blanket of steam fogged up the ensuite, the glass of the shower cubicle becoming opaque. I closed my eyes again and set my fingertips against the condensation, drawing lines back and forth.  
  
I didn’t hear him come in, but even if I had I don’t know what I would have done differently.  
  
Suddenly the cubicle door was open and his larger form pressed inside it with me, his hand sliding across the back of my neck.  
  
I lifted my head and was confronted with his awkward lips upon my own, his other hand curling around to cup my cheek. I let out a noise as his tongue entered my mouth, and found my own hands tangling in his dampened hair, needily. I turned my body and allowed him to press me against the glass, the feeling of his weight on me again causing a squeeze around my heart.  
  
Chris kissed me slowly, his mouth too wet like it always is, hand tipping my chin up and thumb grazing over my cheek. The steam amplified the scent of sex and perspiration on him, and his body betrayed a half-hearted arousal. My own had nothing left to give, yet a shiver rushed through me all the same and my breathing laboured.  
  
His hands never strayed to initiate anything more, except to slip from my neck to the small of my back as he kissed me. The other remained holding my head as his tongue probed my mouth, lips sealed over my own.  
  
And then he was gone again, disappearing into the steam.  
  
I was left breathless and trembling, a wreck of nerves and emotion, buckled against the glass of the shower cubicle.


	2. Chapter 2

It was three days before anyone came looking for me.  
  
I shut myself in the flat with the memories of what Chris and I had said and done that night haunting my every waking moment.  
  
The sheets still smelled of his cologne and sweat. Instead of washing them like I knew I should, I buried myself in the tangle of their cotton and let my hands roam across my own fevered skin until I cried out.  
  
I walked back and forth past the table where Chris had hoisted me up and pulled down my trousers. My palms sweated at the sensory memory of his mouth over my erection and fingers inside me, and I found myself dampening the thoughts with glasses of scotch.  
  
I could still hear the murmur of his warm, low voice in my ear as he told me how he belonged to me, and gasped out how much he loved having me inside him. The words lingered, shuffling around in my mind, and came back to hit me hard in fragmented phrases. Words stuck out, splintering in my chest and belly, and I pressed a hand over my face to force them from my head.  
  
They were just mistakes, accidental and unmeant, rushed out from both our lips when our minds were elsewhere. Too much physical sensation jumbling up thoughts and hauling emotions across crackling neurons to bundle them into inappropriate forms. They were flawed reflections of the both of us, and best quickly dismissed and forgotten.  
  
Every time I entered the ensuite I felt my head cloud up and ghostly sensations of Chris’s mouth on mine again flooded my every nerve. I couldn’t erase the feel of his fingertips tracing over my cheek and that maintaining hand of his in the small of my back. It made me choke, the thick ball of emotion that I was struggling to contain trying to shout its way out of my throat.  
  
And even when I managed to clear my head enough to reach the sink, the face that stared back at me from the mirror made me recoil. Eyes wide, bagged, with blown pupils, haunted by an unsettling mix of fear and desperation, a _need_ for something that couldn’t be named. The same fever coloured my cheeks and neck, adding to the scruffy shadows provided by beginnings of facial hair I hadn’t tended to.  
  
But always my eyes were drawn to the guilty reddened marks at the right side of my throat, where Chris had staked his claim upon my skin and I hadn’t stopped him. Slowly, anxiously, I fingered the wounded capillaries, tracing the shape and watching the way they moved with my skin as I swallowed. As though just by covering them with my fingertips, they might disappear and blot out all evidence. As if that was what I really wanted.  
  
Thoughts of Kelly were almost entirely absent from my head. She only came to mind when I found myself staggering to the loo, red-eyed and distraught, to throw up my lunch as the full weight of what I’d done to Chris’s kids hit me. I’d not been worried before, because we’d always been safe. But that night had changed everything. Horrible, self-pitying guilt overtook me for the rest of the second day.  
  
On the third day, late in the afternoon, my buzzer sounded.  
  
I jumped, unexpected outside noise startling me out of another daze of ineffective thoughts.  
  
The only visitors I’d had since that night were delivery staff for food I’d ordered in. The empty pizza boxes and other takeaway containers were still strewn about the kitchen and across the coffee table, along with my almost-empty bottle of scotch and dirty glasses.  
  
I knew someone would come for me eventually. My mobile was turned off and I didn’t have a home phone. Gabby would no doubt be wondering why the hell she hadn’t heard from me, and probably would have contacted Dom, Matt and Chris to see if they knew where I was.  
  
Matt has no qualms about interrupting people when they’re in the middle of a personal crisis, or escaping for some quiet time, so I half-expected it to be him coming to pull me from this self-imposed imprisonment. I wish it had been Matt. It _should_ have been Matt. Then everything would have worked out so differently. So easily.  
  
Rubbing at my eye and then running a hand over my face, I stumbled over to the intercom to reply to the buzzer. I didn’t bother to switch on the video-viewer, partly because I was in too much of a stupor of emotion, and partly because I wasn’t sure I wanted to see whoever it was anyway.  
  
“ ’Ello?”  
  
My voice sounded flat and weary, an embodiment of how I felt. There was a long pause, and I almost told whoever it was to fuck off, before a hesitant voice responded.  
  
“Tom?”  
  
It was only one word, but it was enough set alight recognition, the soft tone cutting straight to my core and making my heart seize. I started shaking, my pulse accelerating to an insane and thready pace, and all thought, mundane or otherwise, faltered and ceased.  
  
“Chris..?”  
  
It was a garbled, nervous blurting of his name, my voice betraying my utterly shattered state of mind.  
  
“Um... I got asked to check up on you, cos no-one had heard anything for a few days. Gabby called. Wanted to make sure you’re alright.”  
  
I wondered if he meant that exactly how it sounded. My stomach stirred with butterflies at the thought of Chris being worried about me. Curiously enough, not Gabby though.  
  
I attempted to collect myself together into a more coherent frame of mind before answering. Rubbing a hand over my face again, I closed my eyes for a moment and swallowed hard, the slight taste of scotch lingering on my tongue.  
  
“Yeah, sure. Come on up.”  
  
Fewer words were better, I knew. Besides, I barely felt capable of articulating anything more. The mere sound of Chris’s voice and the knowledge of his imminent arrival wreaked havoc on my already fragile mental state, and in turn sent my body into high alert. I felt slightly ill from the adrenaline that had begun blasting itself through my bloodstream, and contrastingly light-headed and euphoric from the endorphins that joined it.  
  
For me, Chris had become a contradiction. Everything he made me feel when he was around, and even when he wasn’t, was a battle of opposing forces. Affection, resentment, desire, guilt; they all bubbled up inside me, tearing at my mind and my heart, and I didn’t have the faintest clue as to how to begin to reconcile them.  
  
My sweaty fingertip pressed against the entry button, eyes tracking over the dull pallor of the skin on the back of my hand. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back from the intercom and slowly sat down on the couch to wait for him.


	3. Chapter 3

It could have been seconds, could have been minutes, could have been hours, before the knock on the door finally came to signal Chris’s arrival. My head was in so many pieces that day that I had no concept of time, and simply sat there with both hands knotted in the back of my hair, staring at the floor while I waited. I couldn’t think, couldn’t imagine anything I was going to say when he stepped across that threshold; I could only feel the storm of emotions brewing inside me that I had no hope of gaining control over.  
  
At the hesitant tap of wood just a few metres away, I looked up, eyes wide and heart caught in my throat. As if in a dream, I found myself standing from the couch and shifting one foot in front of the other to make my way to the door, all movements of my body on automatic. From outside myself, I watched my shaking hand reach for the handle and turn it, opening the door to reveal the man that was the cause of my ruin.  
  
My heart stayed firmly lodged in my throat at the sight of him. I wanted to tell myself he didn’t look lovely. I wanted to believe what I’d felt the other night hadn’t been real. That it had all been imagined, and every single physical encounter with Chris had only been a means to an end; he was a convenient fuck and nothing more. But seeing him standing there in my doorway that day, I knew it was a lie.  
  
He was wearing his standard uniform of t-shirt and jeans, slightly trendy but not overly dressed up; the shirt grey with black retro print, and trousers loose and comfortable like I knew he preferred. Chris would only wear slightly tighter styles for performances and award ceremonies, unlike Dom who practically lived in skinny jeans. In the darker recesses of my mind, I sometimes found myself wanting to see Chris dress whorishly like that, though I knew he never would.  
  
His feet were decked out in the usual sneakers, I think he only owned one pair of dress shoes, and face clean-shaven. But the close-cut look now continued up onto the top of his head; the longer, scruffy locks I’d gotten used to over our time together were completely gone. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he stood with a casual air as I gaped at him from inside my flat.  
  
I was a stark contrast to the groomed, fresh-faced man in front of me. My hair was appalling, barely brushed in three days and in dire need of product, and stubble continued to haunt my features, setting dark shadows around my chin and under my nose. I’d showered and was wearing deodorant, but beyond that, all effort towards any kind of respectable appearance was non-existent. My jeans were the first pair I’d found in my cupboard, old and wearing at the knees, and my shirt was a faded blue tee with Japanese symbols that I’d bought in Osaka on tour years ago. I wasn’t wearing shoes or cologne, and I didn’t doubt my eyes were bleary and bloodshot from disturbed sleep and mind.  
  
“Hey man,” Chris said, breaking the heavy silence.  
  
He smiled sheepishly at me, and I felt my cheeks colour and stomach twist in response. Such small actions, changes of expression on him, sent my body and mind into a frenzy, no matter how hard I tried to stop them. I didn’t want to feel these pulls and rushes of emotion when I saw him, when he spoke to me; they were involuntary and unsettling, and completely inappropriate.  
  
“Is it alright if I come in?”  
  
I realised I hadn’t said anything to him, and just nodded dumbly, stepping aside to allow him to enter. My eyes followed his every movement as he came inside, disobeying the instructions of my mind not to stare or openly appraise his bulky yet alluring form. I couldn’t stop the images that flashed in my head of the times I’d been pressed down by those arms, kissed by that mouth, and driven hard against by that pelvis.  
  
Chris set his wallet, phone and keys down on the kitchen bench and then turned to face me, his expression a slightly quizzical one.  
  
“Everything okay then...?” he asked hesitantly. “You alright?”  
  
Shrugging, I forced a smile and ran a shaking hand through my messy hair, hoping Chris wouldn’t notice what a complete and utter emotional wreck I was.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “Just wanted a few days by myself, you know?”  
  
I couldn’t offer a better explanation than that without giving everything away, and revealing the knife-edge I was on in terms of my sanity. He didn’t need to know the fucked-up state I’d gotten myself into by getting attached and feeling far too much in my physical involvement with him. It wasn’t his fault I had no control over my heart and head, and had made everything unnecessarily complicated. I couldn’t blame him, that wasn’t fair.  
  
Chris nodded at my half-hearted response, and I shifted as I felt his eyes survey my form, my dishevelled appearance apparently not going unnoticed. I rubbed at the back of my neck nervously with one hand, aware that he knew I was lying, and licked my lips. At this, I saw Chris’s gaze drop again, and my heart seized as he watched my mouth with just a hint of hunger in his eyes.  
  
Trying to distract myself, and him, I motioned toward his head with one hand, an amused smile stretching across my face.  
  
“Decided to get rid of it all again, eh?” I asked.  
  
It took him a moment to realise what I was talking about, then he grinned back and nodded, rubbing a hand over his cropped hair.  
  
“Yeah, you know what it gets like when it’s too long; it was starting to piss me off,” he explained. “This is easier to manage because I don’t have to do shit with it.”  
  
I stepped forward without thinking, tipping my head to one side.  
  
“Looks good, I like it.”  
  
As soon as I reached a hand up to mimic his own action, running the palm of my hand over his fuzzy scalp, I knew I’d made a mistake. Having physical contact with him again, and being in such close proximity sent my pulse racing and a rush of desire through my body. My touch was playful at first, with the slight pestering quality between mates, but after a moment my motions slowed and my fingertips began tracing a gentle path on his skin.  
  
Chris’s eyes met mine, and I watched his smile drop as the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, thick and heavy with tension. The spicy smell of Chris’s aftershave filled my nostrils and I felt my head spin at the memories it brought back. I knew my body was far too near his now, my touch too sensitive and soft, and our faces much too close together for this situation to end well.


	4. Chapter 4

The look in Chris’s eyes had softened to render them glossy and dark, his pupils dilating as his gaze tracked over my face then back up again. I could feel his warm breath against my face as my hand slipped down to trace over his ear and along his jaw, and I slid my fingers back to cradle one side of his head with my hand. I swallowed, trying to quell the rise of emotion and desire that stuck in my throat, knowing I should stop where this was going but unable to do so.  
  
Chris reached up with both hands to the bottom of my neck, slipping his large, soft hands up the sides of my throat, thumbs tracing over the stubble that had gathered there. I felt my eyelids flutter at his touch and my head tipped back a little, the flood of emotions now starting to overwhelm me and sweep away any rational thought I had left. One of Chris’s hands drew forward over my Adam’s apple, his fingertips tracing a path under my jaw while his thumb tracked along my chin.  
  
“Chris...”  
  
I wanted to stop him, knew I should, but my tone came out as pleading rather than protesting. His brow furrowed a little, but I wasn’t sure whether that was from his own misgivings or suspicions of mine. His gaze dropped back down, away from my eyes, and he shifted his thumb up to my bottom lip to gently pull open my lips.  
  
Then he was kissing me, the taste of his tongue shamefully welcome to my desperate mouth, and I groaned into it, reciprocating eagerly with a hungry tongue. His hands slipped back behind to the base of my head, and he held me firmly like he was afraid I would pull away at any moment. But he had no worry of that; I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to. I needed this, needed _him_ , so much more than I’d ever thought possible, and more than I was willing to admit to myself right then.  
  
We kissed for a long time; rhythm slow but tongues deep, probing, like we’d never done this before and would never get to again. Though I knew that wasn’t the case. I had the feeling this was only the beginning of another chapter of physical involvement for us, albeit quite different than our previous arrangement had been.  
  
The kisses soon turned to touch, and Chris wrapped one arm around my back to hold me to him, the other hand pressing against my collarbone to slip under the neck of my t-shirt. My own hand slipped around to his arse, pulling his pelvis flush against me, eliciting a groan from both of us at the sensation. And from there, everything took on a momentum of its own and there was no stopping what we’d started. I was going to sleep with Chris again, despite crossing a line those few days ago that should have told me I needed to cease my involvement with him. But still I found myself backing into my messy bedroom, pulling Chris with me toward the now sheet-less bed with that desperate need to feel him inside me again.  
  
The sex was unlike any of our previous encounters. We undressed each other one item of clothing at a time, savouring every new sensation of naked skin upon fabric or equally bare skin with intense pleasure, not wanting to waste a single experience. Chris kissed my mouth, my face, my neck and my shoulders with a care I’d never known in him before, and I had to pull him away after a time to be able to keep my sanity. He lay me down on the stripped bed and climbed atop me, letting out a groaned sigh as our bodies rested flush and close against one another. His cock pulsed against my thigh as we kissed again, and I felt his skin growing damp as the minutes ticked by, our hands roaming freely wherever they could reach.  
  
Pausing for breath, Chris pulled away to lean over to the bedside table, fishing out condoms and lube and setting them down beside us on the bed. Our eyes met in a knowing gaze, both of us acutely aware of how awry things had gone last time we were together, and that there should be no repeat of such unsafe practices. For a few brief, ridiculous seconds I had thoughts of how we could fuck each other with abandon if Chris was exclusively mine; no barriers of rubber between us, just hot, tight skin and deep, wet release inside each other.  
  
But those mad ideas were quickly dismissed, and I watched with my bottom lip between my teeth as Chris knelt back on his haunches to slip the condom on. His hands went for the lube next and I shuddered as I felt the cold shock of wet against my arse, followed by a fumbling of Chris’s fingers as he got his bearings. I exhaled a sharp breath as he slipped a finger in, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, and he watched me with stark intensity as he began to probe around.  
  
Out of nowhere, this finger-fucking had suddenly become something that Chris wanted to do to me, and wanted me to do to him, and I was more than willing to oblige. I’d never had any particular boundaries when it came to sex, with anyone, but I knew Chris had always been fairly traditional in his tastes. But the other night, something had changed, and the scope of what he was willing to do with me in bed had blown wide open.  
  
After a few minutes of slow, deep strokes of his finger in and out of me, my chest heaving with laboured breaths, Chris leaned down over me to bury his face in my neck and kiss a wet path from my throat to my navel. My skin felt hot all over, but as his mouth approached my abdomen, I felt a sweat break out over my temples and down my sternum. The first touches of his tongue swiping over the head of my cock made my hips buck, and I felt him smile against me as my pelvis bumped his cheek. I tried to keep in the moans that threatened to rip out of my throat, and succeeded in stifling them to a series of sharp exhalations.  
  
His mouth enveloped me and he began a slow, deliberate suck of my cock, tasting me much more than I ever remembered from our previous encounters. His eyelids had fluttered shut, and the look on his face as he went down on me made my cheeks burn. He actually looked like he was _enjoying_ it. That it wasn’t just a means to get me off, but instead he genuinely liked to have my cock in his mouth. I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe it.  
  
When Chris’s finger started to bump against my prostate, I had to stop him, for fear I would come in his mouth rather than from being fucked by him. And that’s what I wanted. What I needed from him that night.  
  
He ceased without a word and shifted his body between my legs, reaching a hand down to position himself while I hitched a leg up. I choked out another breath as he pushed inside me, the pleasant and strange sensation of being filled up so completely by him something my body had somehow forgotten in the few weeks without it. Now it ached for it, didn’t want to let go, and Chris’s forehead dropped against the pillow as I squeezed around him in want.  
  
He began a rhythm that was slow yet somehow urgent, the extent of his arousal evident in the shake of his arms and the rapid blow of his breaths from between his lips. It didn’t matter though, because after a few strokes of the firm grip of his thick fingers around my cock, I felt my control coming away and the build of that lovely, agonising pressure in my pelvis.  
  
My hands snaked up behind his head, fingertips massaging over the prickly shortness of his newly cut hair, and thumbs stroking down the side of his face. He opened his eyes to meet my gaze, his pupils blown wide like they always did when we fucked, but the look he gave me was something I’d not seen before in those ebony depths. I knew what it was but didn’t want to name it; the same feeling no doubt reflected in my own eyes during those moments.  
  
Chris’s breaths hitched and started, and I slipped one hand down to grab his arse, pulling him harder into me.  
  
“ _Tom_...”  
  
The breathless yearning in his voice was enough to push me over and I started to come, spilling all over Chris’s hand and my own belly between us. Chris watched me as I hit orgasm; the stark honesty of looking into someone’s eyes during that moment not something I was usually comfortable with, but his gaze held me then and I let him see me undone like this. My climax was usually quiet, just heaving, whimpered breaths as I was overcome with a blinding physical pleasure I hadn’t felt with Chris before.  
  
As I started to weaken with aftershocks, Chris let out a groan and arched his neck to tip his head back, his own orgasm overtaking him and he spilled himself inside me. I grabbed at his neck, pulling his face down to rest his forehead against mine, making him look at me as he came. He was glorious; expression twisted with anguished pleasure, mouth fallen open as his body was wracked with unspeakable sensations that I was the cause of.  
  
His hips continued to buck sloppily as he rode out the orgasm, clearly not wanting whatever he was feeling then to fade so quickly. But fade it did, as he slowed his motions and turned his head to bury his face in the pillow next to me, his panting breaths loud in my ear.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of that evening was like any other between the two of us.  
  
We took turns using my en-suite; Chris showered while I found a clean change of clothes, then I slipped in to shave as he came out clad in a towel. We ordered in Turkish for dinner and watched TV, cracking open a couple of beers and talking about the upcoming tour.  
  
The only difference came later on. We were stretched out on my settee watching some shitty movie on Sky, slouched against the cushions, commenting on the poor acting and predictable plot.  
  
I felt Chris’s arm slip under my shoulder and he pulled me across the couch to rest in his lap, my back against his chest. He spooned his body under mine, wrapping an arm around my ribcage and splaying his fingers out over my t-shirt. I didn’t say anything, didn’t stop him, just stretched my legs out between his. I could feel the warm, steady thump of his heart under my spine, and I allowed my head to fall back into the crook of his shoulder.  
  
After a few minutes I felt the soft press of lips against my temple, and I sighed involuntarily, my hand coming up to close over his on my chest. My belly filled with a pleasant fuzziness as I heard a low hum of contentment from beneath me. I don’t know how long we stayed like that; time seemed to have no meaning when Chris held me that way.  
  
Eventually I disturbed our cocoon, turning my head to place a tentative kiss on his throat and inhale the scent of his skin. He smelled of my shower wash. I opened my eyes and was met with Chris’s wide brown ones. More kisses followed and soon I was mapping a path on his neck with my tongue, my hands starting to fidget on his clothes.  
  
Chris groaned, his eyelids fluttering shut, and I felt the swell of his erection against my arse. His hand slid off my chest to rub between my legs, quickly generating the same stiffness in me. Chris breathed heavily against my ear, hips pressing upwards to generate friction, and I ground my tailbone down in response. He grunted, turning his head to crush his lips onto mine. His kisses were messy, hungry, and exactly what I wanted.  
  
My hands slid to hold onto his hips while he writhed underneath me, my skin set alight at the sounds he made. All gasps, grunts and breaths; sounds of frustration and arousal that I was glad to be the cause of.  
  
We continued on like that for several minutes; rubbing, kissing, sweating and bucking against one another fully clothed until I couldn’t take any more. Chris’s thumb rubbed agonisingly over the head of my cock through my jeans, and I groaned, digging my fingernails into the fabric of his trousers.  
  
“Fuck... Chris...”  
  
I didn’t really want him to stop, but I needed more.  
  
“Shit, Tom... I want...” Chris started. “Want you- want your...”  
  
He lost his train of thought as he rutted his erection hard against my arse.  
  
“In my mouth- I want...”  
  
My body surged at his insinuations. He’d never said anything like that before. He’d never shown a fondness for dirty talk, and here he was trying to tell me he wanted to blow me. I was filled with heavy shots of adrenaline and testosterone, groaned again and swore at him.  
  
At this, Chris grabbed my hips and shoved me up to stand, confusing me for a moment. He motioned toward the bedroom, his eyes dark, and I nodded, turning off the TV and the lamp. In the gloom we made our way into my bedroom, heavy breaths punctuating the silence, and I closed the door behind us.  
  
Chris turned ahead of me, capturing my mouth in another clumsy kiss, his hands in my hair. I enjoyed kissing him, but there was always something slightly awkward about the way his mouth attempted to attach to mine. I could never quite work out if he wasn’t tilting his head correctly, or opening his mouth enough, or wasn’t adept at manoeuvring his tongue the right way. The last one I doubted, given my memories of the last time he’d gone down on me. And it was that thought I had rattling around in my head then, sustaining the desperate erection that pressed against the fabric of my trousers.  
  
Chris sat me down on the edge of the bed, pushing my legs apart and kneeling between them. He pulled off my shirt and wasted no time unbuttoning my jeans, shoving them and my boxers to my ankles. I cursed his name as he closed his mouth around me, the sensation of having Chris on me like this again feeling far better than I knew it should.  
  
I leant back on one hand, the other sliding over the fuzz of Chris’s head, and allowed my own head to fall back, closing my eyes as I let out a moan. His rough hand gently massaged my balls, making me shudder, before his fingers drew further back over my perineum and toward my entrance. I let my legs fall further open, tilting my hips to allow him access, unashamed. Chris wet his fingers with saliva before teasing them between the cheeks of my arse. I was relaxed enough from being fucked by him earlier so that his fingers slipped inside easily, drawing out another cry from me.  
  
His tongue slid up against the base of my cock, my head hitting the back of his throat, and before I knew it, I was coming hard in his mouth. He pressed into me as I squeezed around his fingers, and once again I was left trembling and spent by this man I called my best friend.  
  
Chris removed his mouth and stood up to kiss me, long and deep, the taste of myself lingering on his tongue. I leaned back, allowing him to shift his weight and press me down onto my back, his knees coming up either side of my hips. My hands roamed over his chest and back, before removing his shirt with an awkward yank. I traced the smattered trail of hair from his sternum, down his belly to his navel with my fingertips, flattening out my hand to cup between his legs as I reached his jeans.  
  
Chris grunted, his mouth falling open as he looked down at me, and I felt my stomach twist at the sight. Clearly impatient, he shifted his weight back onto his knees and began fiddling with the fly of his trousers. I helped him out of them, and kicked my own jeans and boxers off my feet, Chris crawling over to lie next to me on the bed.  
  
I pressed his shoulder back and kissed him hard, my hand coming down to wrap around his cock and begin quick strokes. His hips tilted toward my hand with every stroke, and I felt his fingernails bite into my arm in pleasure. He came quickly, splashing over his belly and my hand with a low groan, and I watched his face as it contorted with the intensity of orgasm. I kissed him afterward; his neck, his jaw, his mouth and his temple, and he lay boneless and aglow with sweat for some minutes.  
  
We cleaned up, Chris occasionally running a hand along my shoulder as I shifted about the bed, before we both fell wearily back onto the mattress. My legs found their way across to tangle with Chris’s, and he wedged his arm under my neck, pulling me close to him. We didn’t speak as I reached up to turn off the lamp, both of us falling into a contented slumber.  
  
That was the first time Chris and I slept together.  
  
In the night, I was aware of shifting back and forth against Chris, my body unconsciously wanting contact with his, attempting to get comfortable. I woke in the morning on my side with Chris spooning me from behind, his arm wrapped around my chest and one leg hooked atop my own. It was a strange sensation, to be wrapped up in the arms of this burly naked man, given that I’d always been the bigger spoon in any of my past couplings. Even with women that were taller than me, I was always pressed against their back; their thinner feminine frames suiting the front more adequately in my eyes.  
  
But there I was, enveloped by Chris, and finding myself content and reluctant to move anytime soon.  
  
I felt the mild press of his morning wood against my tailbone, and slipped my hand up to lace my fingers through his. He murmured, squeezing my fingers and holding me tighter against him. I closed my eyes again and let out a sigh.  
  
I felt Chris’s warm breath on the back of my neck, then the soft press of his lips on my skin. I turned my head and he kissed me slowly, only the barest hint of his tongue in my mouth. When his eyes opened, he held my gaze for a long time. He looked absolutely terrified.  
  
Then he slipped out of bed, put his clothes back on, and left my flat without saying a word. I didn’t try to stop him.


	6. Chapter 6

And so it went for the next few days. Chris would come around my flat, we’d kiss, we’d fuck, we’d hold each other, then one of us would break the reverie, and we’d be back to regular mates again. But the whole time we both knew there was something creeping up on us in the background; a permanent changing of our bond that neither of us were ready to face.  
  
I called Gabby to let her know I was okay, faking a bad stomach virus, and made plans to travel down to see her. When I got there, her eyes immediately fell on the marks on my neck, renewed by Chris the night before.  
  
The slap in the face was not unexpected.  
  
Neither were the bitter, hurt words she spat at me. Though she held in her pain more than I’d thought, replacing tears with anger. I was ordered out of the house, and not to come back until she said so. I didn’t fight her on it.  
  
I left, and found myself driving south, knowing full well I should be heading back to London, but a greater force in my heart pushing me toward Devon.  
  
*  
  
I sat out on the cliffs smoking a cigarette in the chill of the cold sea air, watching boats of industry trawl back and forth along the coastline. I turned as I heard the crunch of footsteps behind me; Chris’s imposing figure coming into view up the hill.  
  
I’d called him when I’d arrived in town, stating that Gabby had kicked me out, and I’d come down to Teignmouth for some nostalgic comfort. That was a lie, and I was sure Chris knew it.  
  
I stood up, taking one last draw from my fag before flicking it away, and walked through the grass to meet him. He stood awkwardly, hands in his pockets, eyes tracing up and down my form before fixing on my face.  
  
“So, what happened?” Chris enquired.  
  
I looked at the ground, digging the toe of my shoe into the soil before meeting his eyes again. I brought a hand up to the side of my neck.  
  
“She saw these.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
I coughed.  
  
“I didn’t say anything. About us. You. She assumed it was some band whore, and I didn’t argue.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
I took a quick glance around and then stepped toward Chris, pressing my lips against his, one hand behind his neck. I expected him to push me away; this was risky in our hometown, even if there looked to be no-one around and we were up out of view.  
  
But he just opened his mouth, snaking his tongue out, and wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me close. I groaned into the kiss, needing him more than I’d realised that day, and allowed myself to be taken entirely by the moment. We kissed longer than we should have, both of us breathing hard when we broke apart, Chris’s eyes heavy-lidded and glossy as he stared into mine.  
  
“Come stay at mine,” he murmured.  
  
I nodded obediently. I wondered then if he was glad about what had happened with Gabby.  
  
*  
  
“Are you sure this is okay?” I asked, when we arrived at Chris’s house.  
  
Kelly waved her hand dismissively, throwing me a bright smile.  
  
“Of course, of course. That’s what the guest room is for,” she said. “Stay as long as you need to.”  
  
Chris had called her on the way back to the car to explain about Gabby, and she’d been more than happy to have me at their house while I sorted out what I was going to do next. Not that I had any idea about that. Gabby would probably have taken me back if I’d begged and apologised, but I found I had no motivation to do so.  
  
All of my thoughts were of Chris; the taste of his mouth, the smell of his skin, the sound of his laughter, and the depth of his gaze. He was all I wanted anymore. No-one else held my interest.  
  
Kelly showed me my room and then headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on. I kicked off my shoes and padded into the en-suite to splash my face with water, my eyes tracking over my features in the mirror.  
  
The man that stared back at me was a very different one to that of several days earlier. My eyes were bright, dark circles now vanished; hair and stubble neat and trimmed; skin warm and soft, with a ruddiness in my cheeks I hadn’t noticed before. My whole face was aglow, beaming. I knew why.  
  
I looked away, wiping my face down with the hand towel, and then headed back out to the lounge for a cuppa.  
  
*  
  
The following day, Kelly and the kids left early with the nanny to visit Kelly’s parents. She must have thought I needed time alone with Chris to deal with my relationship problems, and I knew I should have felt guilty about her concern for me. But the only thought running through my head was that I had Chris to myself for the entire day.  
  
At first, our time together was entirely innocent. Chris made breakfast while I called various people about more photo shoots and interviews, and confirmed Muse’s performance at an awards ceremony the following week in London. We chatted idly as we ate, and then Chris called Matt and Dom to remind them about the rehearsal before the gig. I could feel the nervousness coming off Chris in waves as he spoke about performing songs from the new album, though what I’d heard them play so far sounded brilliant.  
  
After business, we drove down to the town centre, wandering past shops and along the pier before stopping for a drink at the pub. I had no clue what was going on in Chris’s head the entire time, but all I could think about was slipping my hand into his as we walked, pressing him up against the corner of the arcade to steal a fervent kiss, or sliding my leg along his under the table at the pub.  
  
When we got back, Chris flicked on Sky and flopped down on the settee, kicking his shoes off, and I headed back to my room briefly to nip to the loo. Afterwards, I toed off my shoes and socks and pushed them under the bed, before heading out to the living room again.  
  
I noticed Chris’s eyes wander away from the telly as I entered, his gaze tracking up and down my figure with more than just friendly appraisal. My cheeks heated at this, and I tried to ignore the hungry pull in my belly. I stopped in front of the couch, facing the TV and motioned with one hand.  
  
“Anything good on?” I asked. “Or just the usual 500 channels of fuck all?”  
  
I heard Chris shift behind me and a shiver went up my spine.  
  
“Yeah, pretty much nothing,” he murmured.  
  
The warmth and huskiness in his voice told me he didn’t really care either way. I swallowed hard as his hands fastened on my hips, and opened my mouth to protest. Nothing came out.  
  
“Come sit down,” he told me.  
  
He pulled at my hips, knocking me off balance, and I staggered back and to the left.  
  
“Ah, fuck, what are you doing?” I laughed, turning my head to look at him.  
  
My hands unconsciously grasped over his, and I stumbled over his feet with my own. Chris pulled at me again, making me topple backwards into his lap, his breath warm against my neck as he chuckled. He held fast at my hips with his hands so I couldn’t get back up, and I felt my pulse start to race as I felt a slight swell in his trousers underneath me.  
  
“Chris...”  
  
Part of me wanted to tell him to stop. It didn’t feel quite right doing this in his family home, in his living room where his kids and wife played and relaxed. But the rest of me only cared about how good it felt to have his body against mine again, and what he wanted to do to me right then.  
  
I relaxed back against his chest, turning my head to join my mouth to his, and slid my hands down onto his thighs. My kisses were greedy, taking what I believed belonged to me, and made sure my full weight beared down on his crotch. Chris grunted, one hand slipping from my hip to splay across my chest, the other sliding inwards to take hold of me through my jeans.  
  
I broke the kiss to let out a low moan, my eyes opening to look into Chris’s face from under heavy lids. The flush of his cheeks and the darkness of his eyes made my hips buck against his hand, and he panted into my ear as my body came back down to bump his erection.  
  
After a few minutes of slow rubbing and breathless groans, Chris’s fingers went for my fly, flicking open the button with his thumb and pulling down the zip. My head lolled back onto his shoulder as his hand dove inside, wrapping his fingers around me and beginning a slow, torturous pull. I could see his eyes tracking down every now and then to watch himself touching me, and the press of his dick against my arse became ever more persistent.  
  
His other hand yanked my trousers further down around my thighs, and my breath escaped me as he wet two fingers in his mouth before slipping them inside me. I writhed against his touch, both front the front and back, my body overwhelmed with sensation and mind struggling to catch up.  
  
I don’t know if he ever knew how good he made me feel at times like that; being finger-fucked and pulled off simultaneously with my body on top of his and his groans in my ears, was as close to pure ecstasy as I’d ever known.  
  
Chris’s breaths were ragged, his ribcage bumping my spine and shoulder blades, and I could feel a slick sweat starting to break out over his skin as we continued on. With one hand to brace myself against the settee cushions, I slipped the other up Chris’s thigh to between his legs, massaging the now achingly hard and warm lump in his jeans. His grip on me tightened for a moment and he groaned in my ear, lips wet on my earlobe.  
  
Then he pulled his fingers from me abruptly, making me shudder, and released my erection to begin fiddling at his own trousers. I shifted to the side a little as he struggled to pull his wallet from his pocket, before retrieving a plastic packet from inside it. He paused a moment, looking up at me with blown pupils, his throat shining with damp.  
  
“I can get, erm... lube from the bedroom, if you want,” he murmured. “Don’t have any on me.”  
  
I shook my head and continued unbuttoning his trousers, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. With slippery fingers, Chris rolled the condom on and I leaned back, lifting my hips up and wrapping a hand around his cock to guide it. He spit in his hand and wet my entrance more, though I knew damn well it was still going to hurt like that.  
  
With his hands on my hips, Chris pulled me down onto him, and I cried out with a mixture of both pain and pleasure.  
  
“Alright...?” he gasped, his body shuddering beneath me.  
  
“Yeah, just...”  
  
I trailed off, grabbing one of Chris’s hands and pressing it on my dick. His fingers curled around me again and I twitched in his grip, revelling in the sensation of being filled and held by him at the same time.  
  
“Fuck me,” I groaned, pressing my damp cheek to his.  
  
Chris’s hips began slow but firm bucks below me, and my hands went to his thighs again, keeping myself steady so I could grind down onto his pushes. We fucked at a relaxed pace, but desperate in our want, our heavy, sighing breaths filling the quiet room. We sweated and writhed against one another atop the cushions, half-clothed and not caring. But our fever and need of each other was too much, and after a few minutes, Chris’s hand on me became sloppy, and the noises in his throat diminished to short, sharp grunts.  
  
“I can’t...” he gasped in my ear.  
  
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hold on, because the last thrust of his cock against my prostate pushed me over the knife-edge, and I came in a torrent over his hand. Chris let out a cry, pulling my hips down harder on him, and I felt him release inside me, his body convulsing.  
  
I fell limp against him as I bathed in the trembling aftermath of our fuck, his hand still warm and loosely holding my sticky, softening cock. It passed through my head that Kelly and the kids could possibly walk through the door at that moment, and find us in that state, but the chance was so remote and my body so suffused with endorphins that I dismissed it.  
  
Chris pressed kisses down the side of my neck, his free hand coming up to wrap around my bicep, fingers gently squeezing the muscle. My hand lingered on the exposed skin of his upper thigh, tracing lightly over the patches of skin and dark hair, a warm fuzziness filling my belly.  
  
“Fuck, Tom,” Chris murmured against my shoulder. “You’re so...”  
  
I waited, but he didn’t finish his sentence. I didn’t blame him.  
  
“Me?” I chuckled, still trying to catch my breath. “You started it.”  
  
He laughed, and I shivered as I felt him take a deep breath in, his nose nestled in my hair. His hand released my dick and came to rest on my abdomen, his own cock softened inside me. I turned my head a little and was met by Chris’s lips, his tongue invading my mouth again to rub slowly against my own.  
  
After a few minutes I felt him begin to twitch inside me and he broke the kiss to let out a sigh, gazing at me from under heavy eyelids.  
  
“I could fuck you all day,” he muttered, half-embarrassed. “You feel so fucking good.”  
  
“Don’t think I can take another round just yet,” I replied with a wobbly smile. “Besides, I think we’d better get cleaned up before Kelly gets back, yeah?”  
  
At the mention of his wife, Chris tensed and began to extricate me from his body.


	7. Chapter 7

Kelly came back a few hours later, all smiles and chattering about her family. At the sight of her I suddenly felt incredibly nervous and slightly sick about what had happened that day with Chris, so tried to keep to myself for the rest of the night. No-one questioned me about my silence, likely assuming I was still grieving over Gabby.  
  
I had a fitful night’s sleep; thoughts of Chris’s arms wrapping around me in bed and his voice waking me in the morning running through my head involuntarily. My chest ached when I woke alone in the guest room of his house, and I dressed quickly with shaking hands before gathering my belongings together.  
  
Chris was already in the kitchen when I got there, and I could hear Kelly with the kids upstairs. He looked at me quizzically when he noticed me packed and ready to go.  
  
“I’m going back to London for a bit,” I explained, before he said anything. “Need some time alone to sort my head out.”  
  
What I didn’t tell him was that the need to sort my head out had nothing at all to do with Gabby.  
  
Chris nodded, his soft brown eyes still bleary with sleep, and my stomach turned somersaults as he then approached me. I felt his hand slide onto my hip, and his gaze flicked toward the stairs to check for movement. He pressed a brief kiss on my mouth; the feel of his lips making me long to deepen the kiss, and left my pulse thready once again.  
  
“Okay, well take it easy,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”  
  
From the look in his eye, I didn’t doubt that.  
  
*  
  
It was only two days until I saw Chris again. He rang to say he’d be in London and I told him to come stay at my flat. He didn’t even give a reason for his visit this time, and I didn’t ask for one.  
  
The days became a repeat of the previous week, only I could no longer tell where our friendship ended and the need for sex began. The two began to bleed into one another; our conversations after sex becoming more frequent and intimate, and our physicality during companionable moments of mateship increased. Once or twice, Chris caught himself slipping a hand onto my arm when we went out for a drink or letting his gaze linger a little too long on my figure, and would tense up, cough and look around worriedly as he realised his mistake. I myself found it increasingly hard to keep my hands off him, and not just for the need to come, or make him come.  
  
Things were going wrong, going off track with me and Chris, and I knew it, but did nothing to stop it. I’d never been a responsible person, or cared that much about consequences, and this was just another case of me telling myself it didn’t really matter that much and everything would work out in the end. I’d always left it up to Chris to worry about the details of how to get us out of the shit Matt, Dom and I got ourselves into over the years. Problem was, Chris didn’t seem to give a damn anymore either. Wherever this path was leading us, he was following it willingly, and so was I.  
  
Wednesday I found myself spending the entire evening after dinner in bed with Chris. He’d intended to shower before we sat down in front of the telly, but as soon as I’d seen him take his shirt off in my bedroom I couldn’t help myself. We snogged and groped and laughed, falling onto the bed to peel each other’s clothes off and run sweaty hands over heated skin.  
  
Chris slid down my body to sit between my legs and take my dick in his hands, eyes on my face as he played with me, before dipping his head to add his mouth every now and then. I don’t know how long he gave me head for; longer than any time before that I remembered. He sucked me slowly and gently at first, then hard and quickly until I thought I was going to come, before removing his mouth altogether and replacing it his hand again. On and off, close and then teasing; the night wore on with a constant building and diminishing of sexual fever, our roles reversing every now and then.  
  
Thinking back now, I don’t know of another instance where we indulged in one another so physically and so completely for such a long time, just enjoying each other’s bodies for the sake of it.  
  
I came with a groan in Chris’s mouth, quite unexpectedly as he was blowing me again, and I could feel his fingers squeezing hard around the base of my cock as I did so. I loved it when he did that to me; the spasms of climax feeling all the more rough and jolting with pressure like that on my skin.  
  
I lay limp and breathless on the bed afterward, Chris’s hand on my belly and his teeth nipping at my ear. I turned my head to kiss him, my hand coming up to hold his jaw, thumb running over his chin. I could feel the heat still coming off his body, and the dampness from the head of his erection against my hip. I rolled onto my side to face him and he turned further over to lie on his belly next to me, his head resting between his arms.  
  
My fingers found their way onto his bicep, tracing over the black ink of his tattoos, from his shoulder down to his elbow. I’d been there when he’d gotten the first one done, all those years ago, though it seemed a world away from the place we found ourselves in. We were so different back then, all of us, and when I thought of those days in Japan and all over Europe, I couldn’t relate to the person I was. That man, that boy, had thoughts of nothing but alcohol, travel and women; never contemplating such ideas as sleeping with his friends, breaking families or risking the band.  
  
The sight of Chris’s tattoo across the tight, smooth skin of his bicep and shoulder pulled hard at my stomach, stoking my arousal again, and I had thoughts of being held down and fucked by him all night. Even when we’d begun sleeping together that had never really been the case; of course, I’d found him attractive enough to fuck, but it had been out of heady, ridiculous lust more than anything. I hadn’t been so focused, so _obsessed_ with every detail about him.  
  
My lips found their way to the skin of that shoulder, and I began trailing open-mouthed kisses down his arm and then over toward his neck. My tongue traced the black ink I found, swirling in slow patterns, and I opened my eyes to examine the symbols before running my fingertips over them.  
  
I flicked my gaze up to find Chris watching me, a curious expression on his face, and I felt a grin creep itself across my mouth.  
  
“Sexy,” I whispered, before I could stop myself.  
  
Chris blushed furiously, and I felt my own cheeks heat at my open admission. I looked back down self-consciously, and focused on my hands travelling over the muscles in his arms and shoulders again. I followed them with my lips, and hitched a leg sideways to crawl atop his body, covering it with my own. My teeth went for the nape of his neck, eliciting a groan from his lips, and I let my eyelids fall shut as I breathed in the scent of his skin.  
  
After all our fumbling that night he smelled slightly of sweat and pre-come, and a knot of excitement wound itself in my belly at how evidently turned on he still was. Chris’d had no relief yet, so every touch of my fingers or tongue on him seemed to draw a response.  
  
I let my hands wander; rubbing and squeezing over his arms, back, legs and arse, followed by my mouth and tongue and occasionally my teeth. I could feel Chris shudder under me every now and then, and I could only imagine how frustrated he felt being teased for so long. The thought sent testosterone pumping through my blood, and I felt a stirring between my legs again.  
  
My fingers whispered a trail down Chris’s spine, from the base of his skull all the way to his tailbone, before I let them ghost between the cheeks of his arse. I watched his arms tense and lips part for a low moan as I teased him there, slipping lower over his perineum and rubbing my thumb against the back of his balls.  
  
Leaning up, I pressed my tongue against the vertebrae between his shoulder blades, and began to lick a slow, intermittent path downwards toward where my fingers still stroked. My heart hammered in my chest as I reached his lower back, and I inhaled a deep breath of the musky scent of his body, indulging in the perversion of this encounter. I pressed my lips on his tailbone, letting out a warm sigh over his skin, and brushing my nose against the top of his arse. I felt Chris’s entire body tense as I lowered my head further, my face sliding against the cheeks of his arse and my mouth open, lips hovering but not touching.  
  
“Tom–!”  
  
Chris’s exclamation was breathless and strained, and I was aware it was a cry of nervousness and confusion. We’d touched and fucked each other in a lot of ways, but not like this. Of course, I’d rimmed women before; I didn’t have any problem with the act itself, because it was just another deviant way of getting off. But it wasn’t something Chris and I had explored; our sexual involvement had always had particular rules and boundaries. But I wanted to see if he would let me this time.  
  
With my eyes closed, inhaling him again, I pressed my tongue out onto his tailbone and slid it slowly downwards, just between his cheeks but not all the way to his entrance. Chris choked, his muscles still tight, and his pelvis shuddered against the bed. My fingers stroked the back of his balls, and I could hear him breathing hard in the quiet of the bedroom.  
  
I snaked my tongue out again and licked the same path, but this time probed lower through the cluster of hair, to the very edge of more tender skin. My body flooded with arousal at tasting Chris this way, as well as the response it elicited in him. His hips jolted against the mattress, fingers tightening into fists on the pillowcase, and he let out a soft, desperate cry of, “Don’t!”, eyes wide.  
  
It was clear he was enjoying it, but at the same time, he didn’t like that he was. That only made me want to continue.  
  
I slid my tongue lower, curling it to probe gently, wetly, over his entrance, cupping his balls with my free hand. Chris shook, squeezing his eyes shut and then burying his face in the pillow, a low moan emerging from his throat. He might have said something, but any speech was muffled by the pillow, and I glanced up to see him shaking his head.  
  
I repeated the action, lapping at him more firmly and slowly, again and again, until my motions drew a louder, more definitive moan from him and prompted a slight arch in his back. Whether this was a conscious action on Chris’s part, or an involuntary jerk by his body from the overwhelming pleasure, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter.  
  
I grabbed the side of his hip with my other hand, pulling his pelvis further up off the bed and shifting some of his weight to his knees. Wetting my tongue with copious amounts of saliva, I licked a path over Chris’s opening again, tasting him eagerly and burying my face in his arse. I stopped after a few moments, turning my head to graze my lips over the soft skin of his bum, and opened my eyes to look at him.  
  
He still had his face in the pillow, the muscles of his arms contracted as he gripped the fabric with tense fingers, and his back arched down in a gentle slope from his raised hips. He looked more vulnerable and needy than I’d seen him before, and I briefly wondered if I was the only person to have seen him in such a state.  
  
My hand slid across his hip and down to reach around the front of him, fingers trailing over the front of his balls and slowly up the shaft of his dick. I tilted my head to get a better view, and was met with the sight of his cock flushed and twitching under my light touch. The sheet just below was wet with pre-come, which hung from the head of his erection in a sticky line down to the mattress. The image made me bite my lip, evidence of how turned on Chris was by this, and my own cock ached in sympathy.  
  
Fastening my fingers around his length, I began a firmer stroke of him, and returned my mouth to its place on his arse. Chris writhed underneath me, groaning into the pillow as I started licking him again; the combination of my hand and my mouth simultaneously clearly heightened the pleasure he felt.  
  
I allowed my tongue to explore as well as lap at him, tracing circles around the softer skin of his entrance, as well as slipping lower toward his perineum in slow, gentle strokes. All the while my hand worked on him, pulling firmly, and occasionally tracing the wet, swollen head of his erection with my thumb.  
  
By then, Chris had shifted all his weight off his chest and belly, and leaned into his shoulders and knees, back arched in an entirely submissive and whorish position. The noises coming from him were low, breathless groans or whimpers, and I sped up my strokes and moaned against his skin at the fire it was generating in me too. I licked and pressed with my tongue more in earnest, eyes fluttered shut as I indulged in Chris in this way, and felt him shaking and twitching, his skin hot and damp with sweat.  
  
As I pushed my tongue in just past the tight ring of muscle at his entrance, Chris let out a hoarse “Fuck!”, and his body convulsed, cock pulsing in my hand. He came hard; shooting wetly and furiously over my hand and onto the bed below.  
  
As the spasms slowed, the muscles in his body began to give out, and I removed my hand to allow him to fall in a trembling heap on the mattress. He didn’t seem to care that he was lying right in his own come; he just remained prone and overwhelmed on his belly, his loud, hot breaths filling the room.  
  
I sat back for a few moments to allow him to gather himself together. His eyes were glazed and heavy-lidded, staring out to the side at nothing, and his lips glistened with saliva on a mouth that hung open with gasping breaths. There was a flush over his throat and the back of his neck, which faded at his shoulders before reappearing across the small of his back. He was still trembling, and I slid a slow hand up his side before lying down next to him, staring at the ceiling.  
  
Chris finally reached out a weak arm to gather a few tissues, cleaning himself and the bed down as best he could in his exhausted state. I watched the long shadows play across the wall in the dim room, not sure exactly what to say or do about what had just happened. I’d crossed a line, I knew that, but Chris hadn’t stopped me. Not that I’d given him much of a chance.  
  
I rolled over onto my side, my back to Chris, a frown working its way onto my brow as the consequences of my impulsive actions began to occur to me. I pressed my lips together and let a hand fall to the corner of the pillow under my head, fiddling at the seam of the fabric. I was taken by surprise as I felt Chris roll over and embrace me from behind, his arm snaking over the side of my ribs to splay a hand out on the hair of my chest. His knees shifted in to place at the back of my legs, as though that’s where they were always meant to be, and I felt the press of his soft lips on the vertebrae of my neck.  
  
My hand came down unconsciously over his, pulling his arm closer against me, and I allowed my eyelids to droop at the cosy contentment our position provided. I concentrated on the way his warm breaths whispered against my ear, and his body twitched every now and then. His lips grazed softly along my hairline, occasionally pressing into a brief, wet kiss on my skin, followed by a quiet moan of my name.  
  
I felt flustered, awed, that I’d affected him so completely, and I laced my fingers through his to squeeze them and pressed back against him affectionately. I murmured his name and closed my eyes, letting his warmth and musky scent invade my senses.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
I thought I had imagined it at first; these words I denied I wanted to hear from his lips. But the way his body tensed and breathing faltered when I didn’t respond made me sure it had been real. And suddenly I was overwhelmed, filled with a storm of emotions I couldn’t weather because I hadn’t expected to have to.  
  
I knew I should have said it back, but complete and utter shock gripped me. So I said nothing. Chris had just confessed his love for me and I was too fucking gobsmacked to tell him I felt the same way.  
  
His fingers untangled from mine and he rolled away abruptly across the bed, reaching for his clothes. My body suddenly felt horribly cold and aching without him, but my mind and throat refused to cooperate to call him back.  
  
Chris dressed hastily, not bothering to check how crumpled his clothes looked, and it was only when he was pulling his sneakers on that I managed to gather my thoughts together. I clambered off the bed, pulling on my boxers in a rush, and stumbled after him as he hurried through the bedroom door.  
  
“Chris... wait...” I croaked.  
  
He didn’t turn back, just gathered his wallet, phone and keys as he made for the front door.  
  
“I’m sorry– what I said– I didn’t mean– I should have...” he stumbled.  
  
I crossed the living room but he already had the door open and was halfway out, eyes on the floor.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
With that single word he shut the door and I was left standing numbly in my boxers in the hall of my empty flat.


	8. Chapter 8

I didn’t see Chris again until the day the day of Muse’s performance that weekend. I’d spoken to Matt, and organised most things through him, which wasn’t unusual, since he had always liked to be in control of the live side. It was only when we gathered together to liaise with the venue and event staff that Chris and I came into contact again.  
  
As soon as he spotted me in the foyer of the venue his expression took on that of a deer in headlights, and I felt my own stomach turn somersaults of nervousness. He avoided my eyes as I approached, and continued his conversation with Morgan and some of the crew. As always, we pretended nothing was wrong, and went through the rest of the afternoon with minimal conversation, only speaking when we really had to.  
  
After sound checks and other show logistics, we all dispersed for dinner and to dress for the evening. I grabbed a quick sandwich, unable to stomach anything more, before heading up higher in the building with my gear. I found a suitable open window and pulled out my still camera, eyes tracking over the scene before me.  
  
The streets around the venue were already starting to buzz with people milling about for the awards show; some fretting, equipped press and some eager general public. There was a cordoned off area where the guests would arrive, and where Muse would emerge to throngs of flashing cameras and screaming fans.  
  
I zoomed in to capture a photo of some scene kids wearing Muse flags as capes, horsing around and entertaining themselves during the long wait. I smiled to myself.  
  
To say the fans were dedicated was to put it mildly. These kids had probably been there all afternoon, if not all day, and would continue to hold their position late into the night for a mere glimpse of their idols.  
  
Despite many years of getting used to the celebrity around the band, it still struck me as slightly odd on occasion. To me, they were just Matt, Dom and Chris; my mates who loved to play music. They were just regular blokes. Nothing more, nothing special. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about.  
  
Although, that wasn’t entirely accurate of Chris anymore. He was still a regular bloke, but had become something more to me. Something special.  
  
And as I took those stills, staring down into the street as the light of the day started to fade, I knew that when I looked back on those images I’d be fixed in that moment again, and what I was preparing to do that night.  
  
*  
  
I watched bits and pieces of the show from our allocated seats throughout the night, occasionally nipping up the stalls and into the press pit to capture pictures and video of the evening’s events. Then I followed Matt, Dom, Chris and Morgan backstage as they began to prepare for their performance.  
  
They were quickly strapped up with earpieces and receivers, and I filmed a few broken minutes of general pre-gig buzz and warm-up for posterity. We had hundreds of hours of identical scenes from over the years, but I wanted to record this one. I knew it was a night I was always going to remember.  
  
Dom was sitting in a nearby room rattling his drumsticks against a table, while Matt chatted to Morgan and then sounded out a few of his vocal exercises. Chris was milling about near the stage curtains, and I tried to quash the sinking feeling in my stomach as I flicked glances over at him.  
  
The stage manager came rushing past and motioned to all of us.  
  
“Five minutes,” she mouthed, holding her fingers out.  
  
The boys nodded and I swallowed hard. It was now or never.  
  
As I saw Matt turn and call to Dom, I rushed over to where Chris was standing and pulled him into the shadows behind one of the curtains. I flicked a quick look around to make sure no-one could see us and then turned back to him.  
  
He was watching me quizzically, nervously.  
  
And fuck, he looked lovely; hair mussed up, and black tee and jeans clinging to him in all the right places.  
  
I’d had all these things prepared in my head that I was going to say; explanations for my lack of reaction those few nights ago, apologies for not calling and trying to sort things out, confessions of the storm of emotions I was going through. But once again I was struck dumb, felt myself falling as I stared into those eyes of his, and all my rehearsal was for nothing.  
  
But I needed to do something, _anything_ , to get these feelings out.  
  
I reached up and took Chris’s head in my hands, my fingers gently splaying out along his neck. His expression shifted at this, still puzzled but softening and deepening with understanding.  
  
It was that look that spurred me on, and I pulled him into a slow, shallow kiss, my mouth open.  
  
I broke the contact of our mouths to slide my cheek against his, my lips at his ear. With my eyes closed and heart hammering in my chest, I murmured to him as loud as I dared.  
  
“ _I love you too._ ”  
  
Chris pulled away slowly to stare at me, baffled.  
  
He was deathly quiet, and all I could hear was the thump of my heart in my ears and the echoing voice of the host onstage.  
  
Even in the gloom I could see the whites of his eyes.  
  
Just as I thought he was about to say something to me, there was a shout from nearby, and I looked to see Matt poking about for us. It was time for them to hit the stage.  
  
I pulled the curtain aside and slinked by Matt before he spotted me, leaving Chris alone. Matt discovered him a few moments later and bustled the dazed bassist to their entry point. His guitar was thrust into his hands and he started a little, his brain clearly beginning to kick back into gear. I heard the crowd roar as Dom marched onto the stage, and managed to catch Chris’s eye for just a moment before he followed suit.  
  
*  
  
The performance was far from perfect.  
  
Not that anyone would be able to tell, other than the five of us and the very attentive hardcore fans. Chris dropped a couple of notes here and there, and missed his cues entirely on two occasions. Of course, they managed to fudge it, but I could see Dom was thrown and ended up making a hash of one of his solos as a result. The two of them always functioned as a tight, complementary unit on stage, so if one of them fucked up, it usually meant the other did too. I could tell Matt noticed the blunders too, but carried on regardless, and they ended the show to rousing applause.  
  
A little rustiness was to be expected with the first proper performance of new material, but I knew it was more than that. It was my fault that Chris lacked concentration, and though I felt slightly guilty about their less than stellar gig, I was also hit with a wave of awe that I could affect him so deeply.  
  
When they came off stage Chris apologised to the others, citing nerves getting the better of him. They didn’t seem particularly bothered, but Matt seemed more curious about it than I would have liked. He could be a right nosey bugger sometimes.  
  
During the unplugging, wiping down and eventual wander back to our seats, Chris wouldn’t stop looking at me. It wasn’t quite staring; he just constantly flicked his gaze over to me before looking away with a guilty expression when I caught him.  
  
I couldn’t gauge whether that was a positive reaction or not.  
  
Sitting through the rest of the award ceremony was pure torture. Of course I somehow ended up next to Chris around our table while we all joked, chatted and drank beer, but my head could barely concentrate on conversation. I could feel the tension radiating off Chris in my presence; he fidgeted constantly in his seat and his eyes still tracked over me far too frequently.  
  
I wanted to slip my hand onto his thigh under the table, or better yet, stick my tongue in his mouth in full view of everyone. Neither of which I knew I could do. But that didn’t stop the thoughts from running around and around in my head as we sat through speech after speech.  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief when it finally ended, and risked a glance over at Chris as we all stood to leave. He gave me an embarrassed smile and then turned his head as Dom said something to him.  
  
“Yeah, alright. You coming Tom?”  
  
My stomach clenched as he addressed me directly.  
  
“Eh?”  
  
“To the after-party. I think it’ll be good.”  
  
The look he gave me then wiped away any hesitation I might have had at attending.  
  
“Yeah, sounds good,” I agreed.  
  
Slowly but surely everyone began to file out, packed like sardines in an infuriating shuffle toward the venue exit.  
  
My belly turned somersaults as I felt Chris’s hand at my back on the way out.  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Not five minutes after we got to the party, I felt a nudge at my shoulder and was met with Chris’s dark eyes boring down into mine. The heady scent of his aftershave filled my nostrils at the close proximity.  
  
“I’m going to the loo.”  
  
He murmured it in my ear, and I shivered involuntarily, the tone of his voice sending me into a frenzy.  
  
I nodded, downing the rest of my drink before following him a few moments later.  
  
The toilets there were huge. There were corridors of stalls, large marble countertops, wall-to-wall mirrors and seated lounge areas throughout. It was probably the most ridiculous bathroom I’d seen in a while, but its size meant that the two of us would hopefully go unnoticed.  
  
Unsurprisingly, there were a couple of women in the gents; one snorting lines of coke with a few men, and the other snogging a bloke on one of the seats, his hand up her skirt. I didn’t give it a second thought.  
  
I spotted Chris at the other end of the room, slinking around the corner to the show area of the facilities. Without trying to be too obvious, I followed him and found him standing in one of the stalls, door open expectantly. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me, turning to face him.  
  
Chris threw me an awkward smile, his hands in his pockets. I grimaced nervously and scratched at the back of my neck. I could hear the screech of high-pitched laughter echo from the front of the bathrooms.  
  
“So, um, about tonight...” Chris started. “What you said... that you–” He stopped short and swallowed. “Erm, how you feel about me.”  
  
My stomach knotted and I looked at the ground, suddenly feeling like I’d made a huge fucking mistake saying what I had.  
  
“You weren’t pissing about or anything, were you?” he asked hesitantly.  
  
I looked up again, gaze firm. How he could think I would joke about something like that I didn’t know. I licked my lips and blew out an exhalation.  
  
“No, I wasn’t,” I said quietly.  
  
My fingers fidgeted with the bottom of my shirt.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
I blinked owlishly. That wasn’t really a response. I didn’t know what to make of it.  
  
“Okay,” he said again, after a moment. “Good. That’s... good.”  
  
My heart started to hammer in my chest and I allowed myself a small smile, my eyes searching his.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” he replied almost shyly, looking down.  
  
I blushed and rubbed at my ear.  
  
Fuck, this was ridiculous. We were two grown men, not bloody teenagers.  
  
“I wasn’t either. The other night, I mean,” he continued, still looking at his feet. “What I said... I meant it. How I feel. About you.”  
  
I felt my hands start to shake and a warmth swell in my chest. Chris sighed and rubbed his face with one hand before speaking again.  
  
“I know I shouldn’t feel it. Fuck knows I’ve tried not to,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “Tried bloody everything.”  
  
I didn’t take offense at that; I knew what he meant. We weren’t supposed to feel this way about each other, for many reasons, and it would make everything so much easier if we didn’t. But I couldn’t help how hard I’d fallen for him, and couldn’t stop it now it’d started.  
  
Clearly, neither could he.  
  
My stomach rumbled with butterflies as he lifted his head and his warm brown eyes met mine again.  
  
“I can’t help it,” he said. “When I’m around you, I just...” He paused, clearly trying to organise his thoughts. “I can’t think straight.”  
  
I laughed out loud at that, some of the tension between us dissipating. He grinned sheepishly and edged closer to me.  
  
“Shut it,” he said affectionately.  
  
I allowed a wide grin to plaster itself across my face and gazed up at him. I felt my skin start to hum all over and I wrapped my fingers around the side of Chris’s hand, squeezing it gently.  
  
“It’s okay, I know what you mean,” I murmured. “I feel the same things.”  
  
He lifted his hand against my cheek, holding my head, and I was pinned to the spot with his soft, bottomless gaze. I closed my eyes as he leaned his head down and kissed me, opening my mouth immediately to allow his tongue access.  
  
At first the kisses were tender and slow, but after a few minutes they became desperate and hungry, Chris pressing me up against the shower stall wall. I didn’t fight him.  
  
This passion, this emotion, this love, I’d been holding in was finally out in the open, and I felt an overwhelming need to express it physically. Not just tell Chris how I felt, but show him. And the feelings were so intense that any kind of tender lovemaking at that moment seemed utterly insufficient.  
  
I needed to fuck Chris. Hard, and with abandon. Right _now_.  
  
Our hands were soon roaming, grabbing and rubbing each other’s bodies in all the right places to escalate arousal. Chris began grinding his pelvis into me, erection evident, and I groaned into his mouth, pulling at his neck to kiss him harder. I parted my legs and slid a hand down to his arse, encouraging him, and he began to rut into me against the faux-granite wall.  
  
It was shameless and needy, but I didn’t care. None of it mattered now that I knew Chris was in love with me.  
  
He gasped into my ear before biting down on it, and I let my head fall back on the wall, closing my eyes and letting out a moan. My erection throbbed in my jeans, waves of pleasure flooding me whenever Chris’s hip or cock bumped against it roughly, and my pelvis bucked in response.  
  
We fumbled, rubbed and grunted for several minutes, and I could feel a slick sweat breaking out all over my skin. I reached blindly into my back pocket to retrieve my wallet, and pulled Chris’s head down to murmur in his ear.  
  
“I _need_ to fuck you.”  
  
Chris’s hand came around the front to wedge between our bodies, and I felt his fingers mould around my cock through my jeans. He squeezed hard, thumb pressing in at the head, and I grunted, shoving my hips forward.  
  
“ _Want_ you to fuck me,” he growled in reply.  
  
His eyes were dark and glossy as they met mine, and I hurriedly pulled the condom from my wallet, impatient to be inside him. Chris unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned my fly, before shoving his hand into the small space he’d made in my trousers. I exhaled hot, wet breaths onto his neck as his thick fingers wrapped around me, and his hand began that lovely familiar tug.  
  
Shoving the plastic packet between my teeth, I grasped at Chris’s jeans, undoing his fly and slipping my hand inside. He pressed his body forward as I took hold of him, a groan of pleasure vibrating its way through his chest, and his lips bumped the top of my ear. I could smell the strong scent of his aftershave mixed with sweat as he pinned me against the wall, and I longed to be able to snake my tongue out and lick along his collarbone. He was my most delicious human being I’d ever smelt or tasted, and all I wanted to do was spend the rest of my life devouring him.  
  
I lifted my knee to wrap my leg around him a little, and Chris’s free hand came up to hold my thigh. Our motions were quick and awkward in the confined space, but for me it felt just as good as our slow, careful explorations of each other on the large expanse of a hotel bed.  
  
Chris panted rapidly into my hair, his pelvis grinding furiously against my hand now, and the scent of his sex began to invade my nostrils.  
  
I felt my groin tighten with every stroke of his hand, the pool of warmth in my belly growing rapidly as we continued on, and my grip on him tightened in response. Chris groaned and reached up to pull the condom from between my teeth, his tongue lapping messily at my mouth to lick the gathered saliva from my lips. I thrust my tongue out to meet his, probing inside his mouth, and lifted my hand to grab at the back of his neck.  
  
I kissed him like I would swallow him whole. Like these were the last moments of my life.  
  
I continued to kiss and lick at his mouth, his jaw, his throat, as Chris released his grip on me and began to open the condom packet. He shoved my jeans further open and freed my erection, making me shudder. I watched him as he rolled the condom onto me, the sensation of his thick fingers still warm and lovely even through the rubber.  
  
I shifted my lips to seal back over his again, and his hand came up to cradle my jaw as we kissed desperately. I was gasping for air when we broke apart, and I released my hold on his cock to bunch my fingers in his shirt.  
  
“I don’t have lube,” I breathed, my eyes searching his. “This is going to hurt.”  
  
Chris’s hand shifted around to rub at the base of my skull, his eyes heavy-lidded and shining darkly.  
  
“I know. It’s okay.”  
  
We switched places and Chris turned around to face the wall, lifting his hands to press against it. I shifted closer to curl my body around his, my groin pressing on his arse and hands sliding over the black material of his t-shirt that rode up his back. My fingers settled at his waist, and I felt my veins burn at the broad, masculine shape of his body. It was such a contrast to anyone else I’d ever been with, and one that I found myself unable to resist.  
  
It stoked such a guttural, animalistic fire in me that I couldn’t wait any longer, and began pulling roughly at the waistband of Chris’s jeans. I shoved them down to his thighs, his briefs along with them, and ran a hand over his smooth arse in want.  
  
Chris turned his head a little as I spat liberally into my hand, and then edged it between his cheeks to prepare him. I slipped a finger in and he shuddered, grunting from between clenched teeth, and I watched as his face coloured a little.  
  
It was funny how Chris still seemed almost ashamed that he enjoyed me sticking my fingers inside him, despite how many times I’d done it, and even almost made him come solely from that. But that shyness was something about him that I wouldn’t have changed even if I could.  
  
I removed my finger after a moment and spat on my hand again, this time coating the condom with my saliva, and nudged my cock between the cheeks of his arse. I entered him as quickly and painlessly as I could, but I could still see the tendons and veins in his neck and the grimace on his face at the initial discomfort. He felt hot and tight around me, and I had trouble keeping control of myself for the first few moments, letting out a low groan.  
  
I began a shallow thrusting, snaking my hand around Chris’s hip to take hold of him firmly. The contorted expression on his face faded after a few quick strokes of my hand, and a rub of my thumb over the head of his cock drew my name from his lips. I began pushing more in earnest, letting my head fall back and allowing my hips to carry me forward, in and out of him at a more urgent pace.  
  
I longed to know what we looked like, like this.  
  
This bulky bass player with his trousers half-down getting fucked in the arse by his best friend in the shower stall of an awards show after-party. All it needed was one of us to be strung out on heroin and the tabloid story would be complete.  
  
The act was wonderfully seedy and filthy, and I sped up my motions on Chris’s erection, simultaneous fucking him harder and faster. My fingers grasped at his hip, pulling him against me for leverage, trying to get as deep inside him as humanly possible. I needed to feel him, fuck him, take him, have him; _all_ of him, all for myself, right then.  
  
I looked up to see Chris’s hands balled into fists against the faux-granite and an intense expression of pleasure gracing his features. I could hear grunting sounds emerge from his throat, his lids heavy and eyes rolling back in his head every now and then.  
  
I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the sensation of penetrating Chris over and over; the squeeze of his arse around me, the slippery feel of pre-come at the head of his cock, the solidity of his frame as I slammed my hips against him. And it was too much; the tight, hot coil in my belly wound to breaking point.  
  
“Fuck- I’m going to-”  
  
But Chris let out a groan and I felt him spill himself all over my hand, hips bucking. I came with a cry, burying myself hard over and over to ride out the orgasm, head spinning. My body flooded with pleasure and skin became awash with heat, Chris’s name falling from my lips as I exhaled. Physically, the climax was no better or worse than any other time with him, but something had shifted inside me that made it all feel a hundred times more powerful. The love I felt for him filled me up, expanding out into every tiny corner of my body and mind, and I was overcome by a bright glow of fulfilment I hadn’t felt in a long time.  
  
We stayed in position for several long moments as the sensations of bliss began to fade, our breaths heavy and rapid in the shower stall. My hand at Chris’s hip slid up to his back, and I slipped it under the hem of his t-shirt to stroke along his bare, damp skin. I heard him sigh, and looked up to see him rest his forehead against the wall, eyes closed. I felt my breath catch suddenly.  
  
He looked so fucking _beautiful_.  
  
Finally, it was him that shifted, shoving his jeans down further to avoid contact with the mess of his come over my hand and his cock. I carefully removed my fingers from around his softening length before reaching with my other hand to pull out of Chris. He exhaled sharply as I withdrew, then wriggled entirely out of his trousers and briefs, before discarding them along with his shoes on the stall shelf. I watched Chris as he stretched up to pull his t-shirt from his body, his skin damp and making the cotton stick slightly. The sight of the dark hair under his arms and down his chest, and the swell of his bicep muscles as he lifted the tee made my mouth turn dry.  
  
Before now, I’d never really noticed just how lovely his body was. Like this, stark naked in front of me, flushed and sweaty from sex, he was the most gorgeous and arousing thing I’d ever seen in my whole life. All these unexpectedly intense thoughts of affection for him shocked me a little.  
  
He must have noticed me staring because he shifted uncomfortably and gave me a shy smile. Even _that_ pulled at my chest.  
  
“Um, shower...?” he suggested, motioning to the taps.  
  
I nodded but indicated to my dirty hand that still held the condom.  
  
“Erm, I’ll be right back, hang on.”  
  
Unlocking the door and peering out cautiously, I tucked myself back in my trousers and scanned the immediate area for other people. There was some swearing and laughing from up the front of the room, but the only person I could heart in the stalls was throwing up and groaning. I didn’t imagine he’d be emerging anytime soon.  
  
I made a quick dash over to one of the toilets, discarding the condom in the bowl and flushing quickly. I wiped my hand down on some spare loo paper and then rushed back to join Chris.  
  
He turned the taps on upon my return, and I skirted around the water spray to the shelf to begin undressing. I ran my hand under the water to clean it off further, but still struggled as I tried to get my jeans off. I looked up as Chris’s hands came down to help me, and I felt my heart leap into my throat at the warm, soft grin he gave me. It felt strangely lovely to have Chris help me out of my clothes, his motions tinged with tenderness rather than desire as they’d been in the past.  
  
Once it was done, Chris slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me under the shower stream, his lips finding the shell of my ear. I closed my eyes and revelled in the warmth of the water and Chris’s embrace, before turning my head gently to meet his lips with my own. We kissed again, slowly now, and for a long time, one of my hands snaking up behind his neck and his other coming to rest on my shoulder.  
  
I slipped my free hand over his arse, admiring the soft curve of the cheek, and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Chris chuckled, breaking our kiss and gazing at me with ruddy cheeks.  
  
“Nice arse,” I murmured, my grin sloppy.  
  
Chris looked down in embarrassment but a sheepish smile pulled at his lips. He flicked his gaze back up again.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
I watched the weak spray of warm water run across the skin of Chris’s broad shoulders, trickling down through chest hair and then over his belly. Tilting my head back up again, I leaned forward and grazed my lips over his, kissing them gently.  
  
“Yeah,” I said against his mouth.  
  
He grinned and kissed me more firmly, his tongue coming out after a moment to work its way into my mouth. I raked my nails against the growing stubble of his hair and closed my eyes, just enjoying the moment of indulgence.  
  
I sighed as I felt his hand wander down and fingers wrap around my length, coaxing my soft cock into a state of firmness again. I broke our kiss to let my head fall back for a moment, before burying my face in Chris’s neck.  
  
“Fuck, I don’t think I can come again,” I murmured, a smile on my lips. “Too knackered.”  
  
When I lifted my face, Chris was giving me that grin of his again, gazing at me from under low lashes.  
  
“S’alright,” he said. “I don’t mind if you don’t come. I just wanted to...”  
  
He trailed off and closed his eyes, swallowing.  
  
“...suck on you for a while.”  
  
His words were quiet but rang loud and clear in my ears, my stomach tightening. I groaned.  
  
“Shit, _Chris_...”  
  
He pressed his face into my throat, kissing and licking a path down slowly, his motions gentle and deliberate. As he reached my chest, I stuck out a hand to steady myself against the wall, the water trickling down over the back of my neck.  
  
Allowing my head to loll back, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the warm trail of Chris’s lips as they made their way to my rapidly-hardening cock.


End file.
